Bartleby of the Big Bad Bayou by Phyllis Shalant Read Free Book Online

home.”
    â€œWell, I am Digger and this swamp is my home,” one of the turtles snapped. His ear patches were the dark red color of leaves in the fall.
    â€œI’m Baskin and it’s my home, too,” a second turtle said. “Did you bring those two gators with you?” His voice was slow and deep, and his red ear patches seemed faded.
    â€œYes, those gators are my friends. The one with the shortened tail is Seezer. Without him, I could never have made the journey. We met Grub, the skinny one, at Old Stump’s bayou on the other side of the woods. He was practically starving and—”
    â€œDon’t you have any swamp sense? Turtles and alligators can’t be friends,” Baskin interrupted. “You shouldn’t have brought them here. Tell them to go away.”
    â€œI couldn’t do that,” Bartleby protested. “Besides—Seezer and Grub won’t harm you. There are plenty of fish in the water for them to eat. And this swamp looks big enough for everyone.”
    Digger paddled closer. He stuck his snout in Bartleby’s. “Baskin is right. We’ve lived here all our lives. We know. Alligators can’t be trusted.”
    Bartleby edged his head in a bit. “But my friends and I don’t know where else to go.”
    â€œWell, I’m not afraid of gators!” the third turtle declared. She was about the same size as Bartleby. Her carapace was a dark, glossy green, and its flared sides were decorated with a delicate pattern of green and yellow swirls. Her ear patches were the orangey red color of fire. Bartleby couldn’t help staring at them.
    â€œI’m Lucky Gal,” she said. “I got my name because an otter called Fishguts caught my right rear web—but I got away from him.” She paddled around and poked her web in his face. It was missing two toes.
    Bartleby stared at the wounded foot. His throat quivered. “I’ve never seen an otter,” he admitted. “It must be a very dangerous creature.”
    â€œOh, yes, especially to a turtle. Otters love to eat anything in a shell.” In the time it took Bartleby to blink, Lucky Gal disappeared under the water. In another second, she reappeared on the other side of a lettuce plant. “To escape, you have to be quick and clever—and very, very lucky,” she declared.
    â€œBartleby is quick and clever,” Quickfoot said. She’d been so quiet Bartleby had nearly forgotten she was there. “He outswam four alligators in a race.”
    â€œHarrumph! You expect anyone to believe that?” a voice croaked. “No turtle could swim so fast.”
    Bartleby squinted into the floating lettuce patch. A large bullfrog was drifting among the plants. “You don’t have to believe it, but it’s true.”
    â€œQuag-quog. Quag-quog. Don’t mind Big-Big,” called a voice from overhead.
    â€œQuag-quog. Quag-quog. Yes, that quarrelsome frog would doubt anyone—even his own reflection,” added another voice.
    Bartleby looked up. Two great white birds with crooked necks and long beaks were perched on a branch overhead. He flapped his webs with excitement. “You’re Plume and Billy, aren’t you?”
    â€œGlad to see you made it,” the larger bird said. “Plume and I enjoyed helping you outwit those racing gators.”
    â€œYes,” Plume agreed. “We were tickled to have a chance to spoil Old Stump’s plan.”
    Bartleby gazed at her huge wings and skinny legs. He’d never seen a more unusual bird. “Thank you. Without you, I would never have succeeded.”
    â€œWhat?” Big-Big leaped onto a plant in front of Bartleby. He stuck his puffed-up chest into the red-ear’s snout. “You didn’t say you had help.”
    â€œI didn’t have a chance. I—”
    â€œHarrumph! You said you swam here from up north. You said you beat four gators. I think